


arms tonite

by cottagecrowcore



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Music, Nightmares, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottagecrowcore/pseuds/cottagecrowcore
Summary: Ever since they died, visions of the apprentice have tortured Asra in his dreams.
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	arms tonite

**Author's Note:**

> i was listening to arms tonite by mother mother and suddenly this came to me like a vision from an angry god, so i had to write it. lmao sorry asra

It was odd, really. Before everything happened, Asra had loved sleeping. He loved his regularly irregular sleep schedule, and he loved his naps. 

Ever since his apprentice died, he hadn’t been sleeping well.

When he closed his eyes, he saw them. No amount of spells or charms could shield his mind from the barrage. It was night after night after night. For once, Asra dreaded letting sleep’s gentle fingers caress his body and pull him into dreams. He knew what he’d see. Nevertheless, he had to sleep. 

So he flopped onto his bed, and he fell asleep.

…

Asra walked down the stairs of his shop, ready for another day. His apprentice was probably awake already, and he’d see them at the counter taking care of their morning rituals. The… the shop was empty. Where were they? Maybe they were just at the market paying a visit to Selasi. Yes, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? They could never get enough of his pumpkin bread.

He turned the handle of the front door, but rather than the streets of Center City, it opened to the dark beaches of the Lazaret. When he turned behind him, the door and the shop were both gone, leaving him stranded on the dark island. It was then that he realized this was a dream. He sighed, knowing what was about to come.

Through the ashes and sand, a figure arose. It was one Asra would know without even seeing their face, without even hearing their voice, without feeling their skin on his-- He could tell it was them by the way their footsteps sounded on the sand and the way they carried themselves. If it weren’t for the empty void that answered when he reached out for their magic, he would truly believe that this was his apprentice. 

They walked over to him, their pace excruciatingly slow. He made no move to avoid them, after all, they’d find him no matter where he went. Their hand wrapped around his wrist in a vice grip. His apprentice would never hold him with that much hostile force, but their skin felt exactly as it had when he’d felt it a thousand times before. 

Asra looked into their eyes. The sclera were dyed crimson-- Were they red before? He didn’t know. The rosy red hue had spread to the skin around their eyes, forking across their face like a maze of blood vessels. It had even seeped into the tears that flowed down their cheeks. 

In an instance, their skin went from slightly clammy to burning with the intensity of the sun-- No, it wasn’t the sun. The sun was giving and generous. Her light was harsh at times, true, but she provided life to the lush land they called home. This burning was more akin to the burning he imagined when he sat at the docks and stared out at the Lazaret. The flames that tickled at dead skin, caressing body after body until they all crumbled to ash. A cremation pyre.

He tried to jerk his wrist away out of nothing more than instinct, but it was to no avail. Their grip was like iron. Gritting his teeth, he looked into their eyes once more. Flames framed their face, burning away their lovely hair. They raised a blisteringly hot hand to caress his cheek.

“Asra,” they said. The sound made his chest ache, for their voice sounded just like it had before their death. “Asra. Asra. Asra.”

They reeled their head back and laughed, hysterical cackles that provided a sharp contrast to the tear tracks on their face. “Asra. _Asra._ Don’t you think it’s funny? You tried so hard to protect me. And would you look at that! It was for nothing. All you did was push us apart, and I died alone. I died thinking that you hated me, Asra.”

This was a nightmare. It wasn’t real. But did that make their words false? 

Asra didn’t respond. There was nothing to say.

The flames spread to their arms, engulfing their shoulders in swaths of fire. Then the fire moved to their upper arms, then their forearms, then their hands. The flames burned, but they failed to spread to Asra. They only consumed the apprentice, pouring down their chest like a waterfall until the only feature of theirs he could see was those eyes with their crimson sclera, miraculously untouched by the fire. 

With one final shudder, they crumbled to dust.

… 

Asra woke up in the middle of the night, heart pounding out of his chest.


End file.
